


Non-Explicit Spiritassassin Snippets and Ficlets

by dark_lord_cuddleslut



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-03-03
Packaged: 2018-09-28 01:19:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10061438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dark_lord_cuddleslut/pseuds/dark_lord_cuddleslut
Summary: Just felt like putting these up on AO3 for posterity, in case anyone wanted an easy place to access them. These are mostly based on requests or fan art, and all under 1k words. Nothing explicit, mostly just banter and snuggling.





	1. Ache Soothed, Pt. 1

From the kitchen, a tuneful whistle grows sharp. Baze pushes off the wall and flicks a switch on the stove. Fire out, the kettle quiets, the faint rumble of a boil still persisting. There is grumbling and rustling, cabinets unlatching and closing, cups and utensils clinking. Water and tea whisked together, steamy and frothing. He looks down at the mug, and after regretting not making one for himself, he goes through the process again.

Chirrut is curled up on his side in bed, half-covered in messy blankets that have been kicked off and dragged back over his shivering body countless times. When his lover enters the room, he doesn’t stir. After setting the cups down on the end table as quietly as he can manage, Baze leans down and softly kisses Chirrut on the temple. There’s a little hum from the dozing monk. Baze smiles. “Tea?” An affirmative hum. “You’ve been asleep forever. Feeling better?”

“Mhm, a little, but I wouldn’t complain if you kept waiting on me.” Chirrut opens his eyes for Baze’s benefit. Baze sits down on the bed, resting a hand on Chirrut’s shoulder.

“I must have been crazy to marry you.” Chirrut grins, but when he moves to curl around his husband, his body is wracked with coughs and spasms. “Oh, that sounds good. You sound much better.” Baze feels a little bad for teasing him and leans down to kiss Chirrut’s temple again.

“You say that like you had a choice; you fell hopelessly in love with me the first time we met.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t rub it in.” Despite his rough veneer, Baze smiles, knowing Chirrut is right. “You were really cute. And those muscles….”

“Were cute? I’m not still cute?

“ _Shi naei_ , you’ll always be cute, wrinkles and all.” Baze gazes down at his beloved, demonstratively trailing his fingertips along the thin lines on Chirrut’s face. He feels a familiar stirring, but given Chirrut’s illness, does his best to ignore it. Even after decades of marriage, Baze’s attraction to him was undeniable. He looked at no one the way he looked at Chirrut.

“Green tea?”

“Mhm, you have to get up to drink, though. The last thing you need is something else to choke on”

Chirrut felt himself blush as an errant filthy thought darted through his head. He slowly pushes himself up, aching muscles shaking. “Nnng, I’m so sore…”

“Do you feel up to a walk to the kyber pools after breakfast?”

“Will you carry me?”

“Ugh, probably.” Baze wraps an arm around Chirrut, helping him into a more comfortable spot. “You’re carrying me home though.”

“ _Na ma ne!_ ” Chirrut scoffs, still smiling. Baze takes his wandering hand and touches it to a steaming cup.

Bands of warm afternoon sunlight cross them too slowly to notice but for the sun’s soothing touch. They lean against each other between sips of tea and plan their day almost idly, sharing the sort of banter that only those who share such a mutual admiration and love really can. As the tea dwindles to a muddy paste at the bottom of their cups, they are no more awake than before. Lazily they draw their hands across each other, cooing quiet words of affection, content to make the day wait on them.


	2. Inseparable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is based on fan art by godforget.tumblr.com, available here: https://godforget.tumblr.com/post/156378896530/home

It was a tulruk-ivory comb that his mother had given him decades ago, when he had reached the second duan in zama-shiwo training. An ornate little thing, delicately carved, but sturdy enough to have lasted so long without so much as the faintest crack or creak of complaint. A feature which many a tulruk would attest to, were they capable of speech. Thoughts of his mother drifted faintly through Chirrut’s mind - the smell of her cooking, the color of her hair, the sound of her broom scratching at the dusty floor. She adored Baze. Chirrut liked to think she would have approved of the love they felt for one another. They were fast friends from the start, and whenever Chirrut came home from the monastery to visit, his gentle companion was always invited.

The drowsy bantha was resting in his lap, arms draped over Chirrut’s thighs, limp against his stomach. Slowly, again and again the comb raked through Baze’s thick hair. He had fallen asleep while his husband groomed him, but Chirrut had long since worked out the stubborn knots brought on by Jedha’s sandy winds. All that was left was the reliable motion.

Chirrut found endless pleasure in the simple act. Here, there was peace and safety. His fingers drew brief lines in his love’s long locks as Baze sighed deep, slow breaths in his lap. Even in sleep, Baze’s hand was loosely gripping Chirrut’s leg, guarding him. Chirrut smiled. He couldn’t help but trail his finger along the outer edge of one of Baze’s ears. Did he grow out his hair to hide them? His husband found them admirable, much to his irritation, for he never liked attention drawn to them.

“That song…” Baze mumbled, stirring. “I know it. Somewhere.” Chirrut didn’t realize he had been humming.

“My mother used to hum it. When she swept the floors. You remember her?”

“Of course, shǎ háizi. Even if I was a thousand years old.” Baze’s head turned and he rubbed his cheek against Chirrut’s robe. He made a humming sound, eyes still closed, sighing in his husband’s scent. “She made the best dumplings.”

Chirrut smiled wide and nodded. “She always called you her hungry son.”

“You eat like a little bird.” Baze teased. He knew Chirrut would feel his grin.

“And you eat like a lumbering tulruk.” Mouth closed, Baze laughed, nuzzling against Chirrut fiercely enough to make his husband feel ticklish. “And you have the ears to match!”

“ _Hēi!_ ” Baze protested, his tone as grumpy as it was playful.. He turned around in Chirrut’s lap, kneeling between his legs, and used his hands to pin his shoulders to the wall. Chirrut was laughing, his eyes locked in a gleeful squint, wrinkling at the corners. Baze scooped him up in his arms, lowering him roughly to the ground and pelted his face with kisses.

Chirrut swatted at him helplessly, his chest shaking with laughter. He threw his arms around Baze, squeezing him tight, trying to worm his way out of the aggressive affection. “Baze!” He wailed, sputtering and giggling.

Eventually, his husband relented, chuckling softly and rolling off to the side. He let his arm wrap lazily across Chirrut’s chest as the two caught their breath, lazily tangled together.


	3. The Only Color on Jedha

Flower petals danced in little circles amidst the dusty sand as a breeze picked up. They twirled and tumbled before daintily floating back down to the stones, warmed by the late spring sun. Two monks, asleep, lounged among them, too deep in their afternoon snooze to be stirred by the wind. Blue petals clung to them here and there, some fluttering across their weathered robes, or catching on their skin. Chirrut was sprawled out across Baze’s lap, who was in turn leaning against a curve in the wind-worn wall. Their still hands overlapped.

Rare was it to catch them at rest, at peace, without playfully nipping at each other like an old married couple. Petals were gathering around them, outlining their supine bodies against the tan courtyard ground as the breeze wedged them under layers of cloth.

_The only color on Jedha is blue_ , Baze would write, _the parting blossoms of the ji-i trees, and the eyes of my love - aimless wanderers all._


	4. The Force Provides

Baze was so warm. Like a hotrock on a sunny day.

Chirrut’s hand settled on his friend’s cheek, cold as ice. “Aiya!” Baze protested, putting his hand over Chirrut’s. The monk smiled, a mischievous expression drawing lines on his face. Baze’s free arm wrapped around his chilly friend, pulling him closer. Chirrut melted into the embrace, breathing in Baze’s scent, his hands finding their way into the various loops and pockets of his uniform. He grasped at the khaki coverall, seemingly unable to get close enough.

“You know, sometimes I think you pray to be cold.” Baze kissed the top of his head.

“No, no, no… I pray for warmth.” He leaned back just enough to gesture to Baze. “And here you are.”


	5. Too Little Space

Scarif wasn’t far off now. Bodhi Rook was glancing nervously around the ship, standing up against the bulkhead to stretch his aching legs. He happened to notice the monk and his guardian near the cargo door, leaning against each other. Bodhi had never been terribly intimate with anyone, but even he knew there was something more to them than just kinship. It was the way they touched their foreheads together, the way Baze started whenever he realized Chirrut was out of his sight, and even the way they teased each other. Chirrut was speaking quietly, too quietly for Bodhi to hear, with his face half-buried in Baze’s shoulder. His head turned slightly to see the side of Cassian’s face, staring intently out the forward viewport. He felt a pang of something unfamiliar as he imagined being as close to the captain as Chirrut was to Baze.

_Are you in… in love?_ He asked Chirrut in his mind, looking back to the monk. _What is it like? I think it feels like… always wanting to be with someone. And being able to hold them whenever you want._ Bodhi’s mind went quiet as he watched them. Baze kissed Chirrut’s forehead and brushed a hand against his cheek. Chirrut draped an arm across his protector. _Why do you hide it sometimes? Why does it matter when people are watching?_

“The pilot is watching.” Baze said, well out of earshot of Bodhi.

“I know. He’s just curious. I think he’s in love with Cassian.”

Baze raised his brow. “He’s going to have to fight the droid for that.”


	6. Visitor

Footsteps. Not the light padding of his brother-guardians. Feet in boots, crunching against the gritty stone floor. Chirrut listened to them getting closer, begrudgingly giving the sound attention to stave off the stifling boredom. Cornered in the infirmary, any sound held the promise of anything other than staring into a faceful of bandages. The heavy boots stopped in the doorway. Chirrut squinted, causing his bandages to settle uncomfortably.

“Baze?” He asked the now-quieted darkness, itching at his face. “Is that you?”

“Of course it’s me.” Baze stood at the open door, glad he could hide the guilt on his face.

Chirrut smiled. The muscles were almost instantly sore. “What did you bring me?”

“What makes you think I brought you anything, _ya-wei?_ ” Baze walked in, starting to dig into a pocket. Chirrut’s finger darted in the direction of the sound.

“Because you’re quiet like a cargo ship.”

“Feh!” Baze protested. “Guess you don’t want it then.”

“Want what?”

There was a crinkling sound as the assassin pulled a handful of paper-wrapped objects out of his pocket. He opened up his palm, presenting them to Chirrut. “Na, you tell me.”

“How should I know?”

“You knew it was me in your room, how did you do that, hm?”

Chirrut screwed his face up. In the past year, the Empire began its occupation of Jedha, Baze had left the Order, and he’d been blinded without any hope of regaining his sight. Against all odds, his sunny disposition remained most days. “Who else would be here to talk to an old blind fool?”

Baze reached for Chirrut’s hand, opening it and placing the colorful little things in it. Chirrut looked down, half-expecting to see something. His nostrils flared when he picked up the scent of fruit, bringing the handful of tiny gifts closer to his nose. Even before his next delighted inhale, he knew what he was holding. Baze smiled, but said nothing. Chirrut spilled the handful into his lap. Reverently, he picked one up and began unwrapping it. “Did you know I liked these?…”

“Everyone likes candy.”

“Melon, though. No one likes melon.” Chirrut brought a still-wrapped candy to his nose, before attempting to hand it to Baze.

“Just old fools like us.” Chirrut’s hand eventually found its way to Baze’s, and he deposited the candy into a reluctant loose fist. Baze opened his hand and started to remove the pinkish wrapper. “Sit with me.” Chirrut pointed in the direction of where he thought there might have been a chair.

As the minutes passed, they finished the handful of candy together as they reminisced about better times; They spoke of how nice the sun felt on a cold day, they remembered how the morning chants used to echo through the temple grounds, and that one time Chirrut carried Baze home when he was too drunk to walk, and Baze gawked and laughed the whole way.

They held hands in the pleasant quiet that followed, and Chirrut forgot that he couldn’t see.


End file.
